


we are not shining stars (this i know)

by selenedaydreams



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M, Torino F.C.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 14:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17246231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selenedaydreams/pseuds/selenedaydreams
Summary: Daniele sits down beside him and takes his hand. Squeezes it silently before bending down to kiss him. They’ve always been like this - sharing a language but not finding any use for words in moments like these. All it takes is Belotti holding onto his hand as tightly as possible and Daniele is ready to put his life on the line for him.





	we are not shining stars (this i know)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brampersandon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brampersandon/gifts).



> for caitlin; 
> 
> i cannot believe that we've been in this hell together since march (february??) slowly falling in love with torino and letting them break our hearts between occasionally playing amazing football. i wanted this to be a mini christmas present but alas, i think i kind of like the fact that this is the last thing i am posting for 2018. thank you for being by my side through everything that happened this year, i hope you enjoy this <3
> 
> title from _carry on_ by fun.

Daniele watches their home match against Fiorentina from the couch with an ice pack on his thigh. It’s more of a preventative measure than anything after finishing last week’s match against Roma with a lingering soreness there. If he didn’t know for a fact that Mazzarri would be able to tell if he didn’t follow their medic’s directions, he wouldn’t even be bothering with the damn thing.

He feels fine...just couldn’t finish all their drills during training because he was tired. That’s all.

When Sirigu saves Veretout’s penalty less than fifteen minutes in, Daniele thinks they might actually have a chance. It’s a beautiful save too that Sirigu should be proud of and that makes him thank whatever idiot on PSG’s board gifted them such an amazing keeper.

They don’t score in the first half but hey, at least they don’t concede either. Lately, Daniele’s gotten into the habit of being grateful for whatever small blessings they are given. But much like always these days, that’s short-lived because barely ten minutes into the second half, he watches Veretout slide the ball past Sirigu and into the back of the net, putting Fiorentina one goal up over them and half an hour away from securing three crucial points.

There’s a part of him that wants to laugh in despair because what else is there to do? Three weeks ago they actually thought they might be able to sneak their way back into the Europa League if they worked hard enough and now they’re heading toward their fourth loss in a row and further and further down the table.

It’s difficult not to grow frustrated and hopeless watching goal attempt after goal attempt is blocked or worse - wasted. With less than ten minutes left on the clock, he stands up to toss the now useless ice pack back into the freezer and grab another one. Busying himself with something other than the growing ache inside of his chest.

From the kitchen island, he still has a good view of the match. Good enough to watch Adem slide the ball to Belotti who gracelessly puts it past Sportiello. God. Who cares if it’s ugly? It’s a fucking equalizer and that’s all that matters.

Belotti all but lifts Adem off the ground as they celebrate in front of the Curva Maratona and not an insignificant part of him wishes that he were there. Not to have scored the goal or even assisted it but just...to relish in a meaningful goal, not one that like a consolation prize.

A month ago, after not having lost since last year, he wouldn’t have settled for a draw. And it’s not like he wants to settle for one now either but sometimes he wonders if maybe that’s the best they can hope for from some matches. Right now, the way he sees it is that a point is better than none. Especially when Fiorentina is also fighting for that last Europa League spot. At least this hurts them too.

Anything more than one minute of added time is dangerous but they survive the first three with only minimal panic so maybe just maybe they can survive the last two too. When Ansaldi’s hand grazes the ball, Daniele thinks he actually stops breathing.

Handball.

Penalty.

Gavillucci doesn’t hesitate to the point to the spot.

Of course.

Thereau takes it this time but unlike earlier, Sirigu guesses wrong and just like that, Fiorentina have secured all three points from one, lucky penalty.

 

 

 

 

 

It’s easy to get lost in the familiar routine.

Wash the dishes. Clean up the kitchen and living room so they’re not a cluttered mess. Fill up the kettle and put it on the stove to make a pot of tea. Go upstairs and gather a couple of bath essentials and put them in the little caddy.

His timing regarding filling up the bath with water still needs some work but at least he’s figured out the trick of using really hot water and just draining some and refilling it with warm water when he hears the front door open.

Angi’s nails clatter on the wooden floors as she runs downstairs and Daniele gives them a moment alone before following her. They’ve been through this enough times that by now he knows how important having a precious, few moments with her is for Belotti.

When he eventually makes his way downstairs, he finds Belotti spread out on the plush carpet in the middle of the living room with Angi pillowed on his chest, occasionally licking at his chin.

Daniele sits down beside him and takes his hand. Squeezes it silently before bending down to kiss him. They’ve always been like this - sharing a language but not finding any use for words in moments like these. All it takes is Belotti holding onto his hand as tightly as possible and Daniele is ready to put his life on the line for him. Maybe it’s not actually that dramatic but that’s what it feels like.

And when words do come to him, Daniele says, “I made mint tea because we ran out of chamomile,” instead of the handball rule is really stupid and they should revise it so teams don’t lose matches because a player’s fingers accidentally brush the ball.

Belotti smiles up at him, brings their joined hands to his lips to kiss Daniele’s knuckles. Angi scutters away and Daniele uses all of his strength to pull Belotti to his feet so he can properly kiss him. Cup his face with his free hand and get lost in the moment for a solid few seconds. With his eyes closed, it’s not hard to pretend that everything doesn’t suck. That maybe somehow, someway they’re going to fix this.

Teetering between despair and hope is something he’s been doing a lot lately.

“Go upstairs and get in the bath I lovingly prepared for you,” Daniele tells him, punctuating it with a gentle smack to Belotti’s ass, “I’ll get the tea.”

Because he has to make a joke. Because he has to ease the tension somehow or he will actually explode.

Plus, it’s all worth it to see Belotti smile in spite of the whirlwind of self-hatred and regret that he knows is wreaking havoc inside of him.

 

 

 

 

 

“It wasn’t Ansaldi’s fault,” Belotti says, sinking down into the water until the bubbles are lapping at his chin. “Or Salvatore’s.”

“It wasn’t your fault either.” Daniele reminds almost immediately because he knows where this is going. No matter what, Belotti always circles back to martyring himself for them. He didn’t use to think that it was possible for Belotti to genuinely believe that he could solve all of their problems but he learned quickly that oh, he very much does.

“Wasn’t it?”

It’s funny except that it’s really not because no matter how many times they have had this exact conversation, Daniele still hasn’t figured out how to navigate the thin line between being honest with him like he always promised he would be but at the same time, now allowing him to fall prey to his own insecurities and grand ideas about what it means to be a captain.

“No, it wasn’t.”

Daniele has to say it with enough conviction to make even himself believe that it’s true. Because the truth is that, yeah, Belotti should have probably scored another goal considering how many shots on target he had. He probably should have scored at least two goals considering the outstanding performance and stats that he boasted last season. But he doesn’t say any of that out loud because those are Daniele’s secret, selfish, ugly thoughts that he only allows himself to entertain when he’s alone and miserable, wondering why they can’t even make it into the upper half of the table.

“Iago should have scored. N'Koulou and Moretti should have defended better,” Daniele slides closers, tips Belotti’s head back so he can mouth at his throat, “There’s a lot of ‘should have’s, Gallo…”

“I wish you had been there,” Belotti says and that’s fine. He’s allowed to tug at his heart and be selfish for one moment. It’s not like Daniele would ever refuse him anything.

 

 

 

 

 

It’s impossible not to be on edge about Belotti getting like this when he remembers last November.

Belotti didn’t answer any of his messages after the playoff match at San Siro. Not even the frantic texts begging him just to tell him if he was coming home or crashing with someone in Milan.

Somehow, it was even worse when he finally did come home in the early hours of the morning and crawled into bed without saying a single word to him. Daniele ended up sleeping on the couch not wanting to disturb him knowing full well that he needed his rest after the hell he’d been through.

Daniele doesn’t think that he’ll ever forget Belotti hesitantly waking him up at six in the morning with red-rimmed eyes and the most heartbroken expression he had witnessed before collapsing on top of him. What else was he supposed to do except hold him tight and let him hide his face in the space between his neck and shoulder?

What else was he supposed to do because it wasn’t as if he could tell him that it wasn’t his fault or that everything that going to be okay?

That was the pre-playoffs speech.

Daniele never planned for a post-playoffs speech. There wasn’t a single part of him that thought that they would need one.

Yeah, he learned from that mistake.

 

 

 

 

 

It’s edging closer to midnight and they are both too tired for anything strenuous.

Still. Daniele knows that Belotti needs this in order to get a good night’s rest.

Daniele won’t even make him use his words to ask for it. It’s enough that Belotti takes the blindfold out of the top drawer of the nightstand and silently hands it to him before moving to kneel on the bed.

After tossing both of their towels over the vanity chair, Daniele moves to stand in front of him, knees pressing into the mattress as he places it over his eyes and adjusts the strap at the back of his head.

“Green?”

Belotti’s lips twitch into a faint, almost smile. “Green.”

The answer has never not been green but he still has to check. Always.

Since Belotti didn’t give him any further instructions, Daniele figures that it’s up to him where they go from here. That’s fine. Believe it or not, he’s also craving a distraction from his self-destructing brain.

It’s easy to lay his palm flat on Belotti’s chest and push him onto his back. Kneel down on the little, faux fur carpet and tug Belotti’s hips forward.

Ah. Daniele hears Belotti’s breath hitch when he realizes what is about to happen. He gives him a moment to speak up if this isn’t what he wants despite knowing full well that he won’t. That’s the whole point of this - relinquishing control, allowing someone else to decide each and every detail so you don’t have to.

Daniele won’t tell him to be quiet. That would complicate things and subvert what this is trying to accomplish. Plus, there is nothing more satisfying than hearing Belotti whimper when he starts licking into him, slow and teasing before picking up the pace.

Getting him hard is almost too easy. Daniele will make sure to tell him that. Watch the way he blushes all the way down to his chest but tries pushing back against his mouth anyway.

“If you say my name like that again maybe I’ll fuck you.”

And god, maybe it is awful to get harder over Belotti moaning his name so reverently and with so much need but he doesn’t care right now. He doesn’t want to think about right or wrong or missed goals and missed points he just wants to spread Belotti’s thighs as wide as possible and leave bite marks where only he will ever know they exist.

Eventually, he will stop torturing him. When he feels Belotti completely relax above him and only whimper every so often, he will kiss the back of his thigh and stand up. Smooth his hand over his hip and praise him for being so good for him.

He purposely found the lube _before_ they started and left it on top of the nightstand for easy access because as soon as Daniele takes his hand off of him to tug the blankets further away from them, Belotti instinctively curls closer and whimpers. “Daniele...”

God. He is so fucking weak for him it’s terrifying. All Belotti has to do is say his name is that uncertain, wrecked voice and Daniele immediately curls behind him and wraps a protective arm around his tummy. “Hey. I’m right here. I never left.”

Belotti aimlessly tips his chin back to kiss him while Daniele hastily slicks up his fingers. It wouldn’t take much to get him off like this. Daniele is barely fucking him with two fingers and Belotti is already desperately pushing back against them, shoving his face into the pillow when Daniele curls them just right.

“You were so amazing for us today,” Daniele mouths at his shoulder, bites down when he feels Belotti tensing up and gearing up to protest. “I watched it all. I saw the way you never stopped fighting. Even after that second penalty you still wanted to fight for an equalizer.”

Daniele doesn’t want to make him cry. He genuinely doesn’t...except that he knows better than to let Belotti bottle up everything that he is feeling right now. In the long run, this is what’s best for him.

So. Daniele will help him flip over. Let him shove his face entirely against the pillow. Plaster himself against his back and slide in easily. Fuck him hard while he cries his heart out.

He doesn’t say anything else because even if he did, Daniele’s not entirely sure that Belotti would even hear any of it. It’s not exactly the sexiest thing in the world to fuck someone who is ugly sobbing into their pillow but it’s fine. Daniele knew what to expect as soon as the match ended.

Sometimes it does give him pause when he thinks about the fact that he’s getting off on what’s essentially stress relief for Belotti but hey, at least he gets off too so maybe it isn’t so fucked up. And even if it is, it sure beats the alternative of Belotti staying up all night replaying the match in his head and beating himself up over what he should have and shouldn’t have done.

It doesn’t take long for Belotti to come, not with the way Daniele is gripping his hips tight enough to bruise and fucking into him with punishing speed. The only sounds he’s making anymore are quiet sniffles and whimpers and the only way to tell that he even got off is from the way his body goes completely slack underneath Daniele.

Daniele is very much aware that Belotti isn’t going to appreciate him pulling out but maybe the fact that he comes all over the backs of his thighs will make up for it. Or the fact that he won’t have to sleep in a sticky, disgusting mess.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Daniele reaches out immediately to smooth a hand over his shoulder when Belotti grows expectedly fussy, “Gallo. It’s for the best. Trust me.”

And boy...Daniele doesn’t think that he will ever get over the way Belotti relaxes when he says that. It never ceases to astound him to what degree Belotti trusts him. How much he allows Daniele to make decisions for him.

Yeah, Daniele planned out everything expect remembering to grab a washcloth from the cabinet underneath the sink. Well. Hopefully, Belotti won’t be too mad that he’s using one of his good towels to clean up lube and jizz. He’ll make sure to throw that into the washer by itself.

...or leave a post-it note on it for Belotti to do that.

When he returns from the bathroom, Belotti has rolled over onto the clean side of the bed and is looking up at him with the most blissed-out expression that entirely doesn’t match his splotchy face and chest.

“Feeling better?” Daniele asks, laying down one of the washcloths over the place where Belotti came against the mattress just moments ago.

All Belotti can manage to respond with is a nod before aimlessly reaching out for him to tug him back down onto the bed. He spoons up behind Daniele and molds himself against him, hooking one leg over his skinny thigh.

“We really need to learn to be better prepared. Next time we go to Ikea we need to get one of those waterproof mattress pads.” Daniele says because he has to break the tension somehow. Belotti’s muffled laughter is really all the reward he needs.

Drifting to sleep isn’t difficult after such an emotional rollercoaster. Daniele barely closes his eyes and he’s half asleep already.

Still, he doesn’t miss Belotti pressing his lips to the back of his neck before whispering a soft, “Thank you.”

Of course. That’s his Belotti.

 

 

 

 

 

In the morning, Daniele wakes up to Angi casually licking his feet. To his left, Belotti is casually sitting up in bed with his glasses perched on his nose and his Bible open in his lap.

At least there are some routines that he never wants to change. Daniele smiles into his pillow before stretching out and cuddling closer to him. “What verse is it today?”

“Jeremiah 29:11,” Belotti reaches down to play with his hair, curling the soft strands around his fingers before continuing, “ _For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future_.”

It’s mesmerizing to listen to Belotti recite from the bible. Daniele doesn’t think that he has ever heard anyone (despite Ansaldi, of course) recite bible verses with such conviction and faith in the words that he is saying. And...it doesn’t surprise him at all that Belotti picked that specific verse for today.

Daniele finally sits up so he can properly kiss him. Morning breath and glasses in the way he truly doesn’t care. “You’re going to kick Argentina’s ass,” He punctuates the words with another kiss, “And England’s,” A kiss to the tip of his nose, “And then we will go to Sardinia and each score one against Cagliari.”

Hey, Daniele might not find as much comfort in the bible as Belotti does but there are other things that he can say with just as much faith. “Atalanta and Milan and Fiorentina have to slip up. We still have a chance.”

In the morning light, Belotti looks into his eyes with hope and stubbornness and without any trace of the guilt and anxiety that was there last night. “And if not...there’s always next season. Next season is ours.”

“Next season is ours.” Daniele echoes without a single doubt because yes, there is always next season. Things change, their hearts and spirit get battered, but to the best of their abilities, there will always be a next season for them here at Torino.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Ha! Yup! Torino really did [lose to Fiorentina in the 94’ minute over a handball penalty.](http://www.espn.com/soccer/matchstats?gameId=491401) And what was the first penalty for, you might ask? ALSO A HANDBALL. THEY REALLY CAN’T CATCH A BREAK. 
> 
> \- [This instagram post is really all the explanation you need.](https://www.instagram.com/p/BhKWn37npEG/?hl=en&taken-by=baselli)  
> [IT’S.](https://www.instagram.com/p/BRRGMtSBEFM/) [CALLED.](https://media-foto.tccstatic.com/storage/album/thumb1/bc043910abda503d4e5e196ef3929f96-04158-1523192170.jpeg) [LOVE.](https://media.gettyimages.com/photos/andrea-belotti-of-torino-celebrates-after-penalty-02-with-daniele-picture-id1057262740)
> 
> \- ...no, Italy didn’t kick Argentina (2-0) OR England’s (1-1) ass during those friendlies. IT’S BEEN A TOUGH YEAR FOR ITALIAN FOOTBALL AND I FEEL AT HOME IN THIS MISERY. 
> 
> \- Oh. Torino did [beat Cagliari 4-0](http://www.espn.com/soccer/match?gameId=491394) (unfortunately, neither Baselli nor Belotti scored BUT STILL) which began a row of back to back wins, one of which was against Inter! 
> 
> \- Look. I know that Belotti doesn’t post daily devotionals [LIKE ANSALDI DOES ON HIS INSTAGRAM](https://www.instagram.com/p/BsDSadRHXZF/) but [ he was an altar boy as a child, grew up in a stereotypical catholic family,](https://lifebogger.com/andrea-belotti-childhood-story-plus-untold-biography-facts/) and has a giant cross tattoo on the back of his neck soooo (also, please read the second link, it really just sums up why I love Belotti as much as I do).
> 
> \- Thank you for reading! You can find me on [tumblr](http://ikercasiillas.tumblr.com/) where i'm always posting about both turin clubs (only god can judge)


End file.
